


Apples and Oranges

by EtLaBete



Series: Until We Meet Again [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Loki Feels, M/M, Sequel, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6043393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtLaBete/pseuds/EtLaBete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight years since the Battle of New York, and here Tony is, just minding his own business on his fiftieth birthday, when a certain god decides to pay him a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apples and Oranges

**Author's Note:**

> You guys asked for it, so here it is-- a sequel to Until We Meet Again. Love you all. :D

As far as birthday parties go, Tony thinks this is probably the most tame one he’s ever thrown. In the past, it was all about women, booze, and the occasional recreational drug. He doesn’t remember most of his birthdays in his twenties, has some not-so-fond memories of tousling with Rhodey after exploding a few things in his suit somewhere in his thirties, and many a time where he spent the morning after huddled over the toilet. 

This time, though, he invites only his closest friends, and even though a few of them bring a plus one, there are only about twenty people sitting in his living room. Some of them he hasn’t seen since mid last year because it’s common for the Avengers— the original Avengers, none of those new hipster kids with powers and justice vendettas to rival Grandpa Rogers— to part ways after after saving the world. 

Tony’s nursing a scotch, comfortably buzzed, when Pepper stands. Conversation dies down and everyone’s attention turns to her, and how could it not? Pepper is as beautiful as she was when Tony met her decades ago, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and the deepened laugh lines on her cheeks do nothing to dull that beauty. Tonight, she’s in a black dress with lace sleeves, and her strawberry blonde hair is twisted into a playful knot at the back of her head. The diamond-studded wedding band on her left hand glints as she brushes a stray curl from her forehead.

She catches Tony’s eye and smiles, her face softening, and he offers her a wink. So many things have changed, but Pepper is the constant that he will try his hardest to keep no matter what. 

_Thank god she married a man who’s okay with sharing_ , Tony thinks, not for the first time. 

“There were some days,” Pepper begins, still watching Tony, “when I wondered if Tony would make it to fifty. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s less afraid of their mortality than he is, and for a long time, that scared me and made me angry. I thought he was careless and selfish, and while maybe he is a bit of both of those things— or a lot of them, at times— it takes a different caliber of man to risk his life, over and over, and expect nothing in return.”

Tony swallows a sudden lump that’s formed in his throat. 

“You’re all probably thinking, Tony? Not expecting anything in return? Ha!” There’s a hum of amused agreement, and Pepper shrugs. “I did, for a while. We all know Tony likes the spotlight, but I’ve been with him since the beginning, and I’ve come to realize that the spotlight only offers so much after so long. I’ve watched his various roles change him over the years, and he gets less and less in return.” 

She focuses on Tony again, and the watery smile makes his eyes sting. 

“Tony, you’re a good man, despite all the weird personality quirks that make me want to kill you on a regular basis. Your life has shaped mine, and even though it has almost gotten me killed on many occasions, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m glad to be able to spend this day with you.” She raises her glass of wine. “Happy fiftieth.” 

Everyone raises their glasses, and Happy wipes at his eyes while the rest of them wolf whistle and yell happy birthday. 

Tony thinks he’s close to being where Happy is, weeping openly in front of the universe’s mightiest heroes, so instead of drowning in the sentimentality, he raises his glass, too, and yells, “To me!” 

There’s dancing after that. Tony manages to convince Bucky to convince Steve to dance, which is something Tony burns into his memory even though JARVIS is recording, and after Tony’s waltzed with Natasha and slow-danced with Pepper and made a fool out of himself with Rhodey and Clint doing the Macarena and other dances that really show their age, he heads to the bar to get a glass of water when the crowned king of Asgard corners him.

Tony is used to having friends who heal and age differently. It comes with the territory, really. Steve and Bucky look thirty even though they're about three times older than that; Bruce has aged, sure, but it’s definitely stunted; and even though she won’t admit to anything that happened to her in the Red Room, Natasha has aged even more spectacularly than Pepper. 

And yet, despite the rest of them, there’s something unsettling about Thor. While they at least show some sign of years past, Thor is completely unchanged spare a more prominent beard. Tony isn’t sure if he envies or hates Thor for his near-immorality. 

“Hey, Thunderdome,” Tony says cheerfully. “Enjoying the festivities?” 

“I am, indeed,” Thor replies with a grin. “It is pleasing to see you all again under such circumstances. The last time I visited Midgard was not such a happy affair.”

The last time Thor visited had to do with a certain Destroyer of Worlds making his way—finally—to this side of the galaxy, and it was ugly and brutal and bloody even though they won. 

“I definitely agree.” Tony pauses. “Kind of. Fifty is old for mere mortals like myself.” 

“As the Lady Pepper so eloquently stated, you are no mere mortal, Anthony Stark.” Thor claps Tony on the back and squeezes his shoulder. 

Tony rolls his eyes. “So they keep telling me.” 

“Because of this, and even though you requested we not bring gifts to celebrate your day of birth, I could not help myself. A gift awaits you on the roof, my friend.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Please tell me it’s not another weird Asgardian animal you assume is suitable as a pet on this planet.”

The fact that Thor has to think about it makes Tony groan. 

Thor just laughs, squeezes Tony’s shoulder, and makes his way back to Jane across the room. 

Tony doesn’t go to the roof immediately. He hasn’t seen his friends in a while, and he doesn’t know when he’ll see them all again, so he sticks around even though he keeps glancing at the door that would take him to the elevator. 

“Waiting for someone?” Bruce asks him a while later. 

“No, just curious to see when Thor’s birthday present stampedes down here from the roof.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows but says nothing.

Tony levels him with a stare. Bruce is a zen master, sure, and he’s smarter than almost everyone in the room, which is saying something, but he isn’t capable of the level of cleverness it takes to pull one over Tony Stark, so Tony knows that the expression on his face can only mean one thing. “You know what it is, don’t you.”

Bruce laughs. “Was that even a question?”

“No. Answer it, though.”

“While I dislike surprises myself, I’m not going to ruin this one,” Bruce says. 

“Oh, come on, Bruce,” Tony huffs. “Science bros before whatever the hell is on the roof. I need time to come up with a better rhyme. Unless it’s an Asgardian stripper. Then it can be science bros before Asgardian hoes.”

Bruce just smiles his soft smile and holds up his hands. “Believe me, you won’t want it ruined.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m going to throw you a surprise party for your next birthday. There’s going to be women exploding out of cakes and fireworks and everything and anything that will turn you into Jolly Green.” 

“Sounds great.” Bruce bumps Tony with his shoulder. “Happy birthday, Tony.”

That same lump rears back up his throat and Tony struggles to speak around it. Bruce has been mostly MIA the last year and a half. It wasn’t odd for him to disappear without a trace after a lot of bloodshed, but he didn’t usually like people to know where he went. A few did, of course— even Bruce couldn’t hide from Natasha and Fury when they were determined—except Tony was not one of them, mostly because Bruce knew he’d ruin whatever pilgrimage he was on. 

“Just glad you’re here,” he finally manages, hating how sentimental fifty is turning out to be. 

***

Pepper actually had fifty candles put on the cake. Tony almost passes out trying to blow them all out. 

Everyone laughs, and as Tony helps Pepper hand out slices of red velvet with the most decadent cream cheese frosting he’s ever had, he wonders if he will ever be this happy again. 

***

He’s emotionally spent by the time everyone’s either left the Tower or stumbled off to their guest suites. He considers checking out the roof in the morning because he’s pretty sure he’ll pass out the second his head hits the pillow, and while a lot has changed over the years, Tony’s inability to sleep like a normal human has not. He’s lucky if he sleeps a few hours every two days, and he still has nightmares that regularly interrupt any sound sleep he manages. So it’s tempting to just ignore it until tomorrow, except he doesn’t want Thor’s present to maul his guests while they sleep, so he gets into the elevator and goes up the roof instead of his suite. 

The elevator doors open and Tony is met with near darkness. He can make out the shapes and silhouettes of furniture from the city’s foggy glow streaming in through the windows, but he’s intoxicated and he doesn’t want to break a leg. “JARVIS, my eyesight isn’t great in my old age. A little help, here.”

“Of course, Sir,” the AI replies, and dim light illuminates the enclosed bar. 

Tony’s about halfway to the door that leads out to the actual rooftop and helipad when he notices he isn’t alone. 

“I think a happy belated birthday is in order since it is well past midnight, is it not?” 

Tony feels like someone’s just punched him in the gut.

Loki, like Thor, looks unchanged even though it’s been almost a decade since they last saw each other. He wears a black suit with a light grey button up, his long hair is twisted into a bun that rivals the styling capability of Pepper, and he’s still pale and lean and gorgeous, even more so now that the dark circles beneath his eyes are gone. There’s something else different, too, like all the gaunt angles have been softened. And why wouldn’t they be? Prisoner of Asgard or not— and he doesn’t look like a prisoner now, Tony thinks as his eyes travel Loki from head to toe and back again—no more mind control probably helped to minimize the stress just a little bit. 

“Have you gone mute in your old age as well as blind?” Loki asks when Tony hasn’t yet responded.

“JARVIS, seriously?” Tony hisses quietly, angling his chin up even though he can’t manage to take his eyes off of Loki. 

“I was expressly asked by both Mr. Odinson as well as Mr. Laufeyson not to ruin the surprise.” 

Tony can’t help it, he stares up at the ceiling and grits, “But they’re not your boss!” 

“Anthony.” 

Loki stands and takes a step forward. There’s a tentativeness to his movements, like Tony’s a stray dog in the alley he’s afraid of scaring away, which is probably a smart move since Tony has half a mind to turn tail and run back into the elevator. 

“Been a while,” he finally manages instead, trying to sound suave. He thinks it works. “You could’ve come downstairs and said hi to everyone..”

Loki smirks. “Thor recommended it, actually, but I declined. Despite my brother assuring them that I was not here to invade Midgard, I am sure Barton would have tried to shoot me nonetheless.”

“So you’re not here as a threat, then?” Tony asks. “No villainy planned?”

Loki’s expression changes, tightens, and Tony hates that he can’t read the subtle change. “No, I’m afraid not. I have tried not to stray from my path of reparation.”

Tony nods and shoves his hands into his pockets; he’s getting antsy and he’s afraid of what he’ll do with them otherwise. “I never asked what happened to you once Thor whisked you back to Asgard,” he admits. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, and I didn’t really want to explain why I cared.”

“I was imprisoned, for a time, but Thor was forced to ask for my help. I’m sure you heard of the Asgardian’s scuffle with the Dark Elves, since it managed to find its way to Midgard.”

“Yeah, I got to help with clean up,” Tony mutters.

“Well, while you cleaned up, I took the throne in the guise of Odin and ruled for a time. He was not well after the death of my mother, and I knew Thor would not take the throne, not yet.” He sighs, and the sound is a mixture of fond exasperation and frustration. “Of course he figured it out early on in my reign. I fear he’s more clever than I ever gave him credit for.” 

“Well, he’s got a helluva knack for surprise birthday gifts,” Tony says and ignores the way his heart speeds back up when Loki smiles. “Speaking of—“

“I did not tell him everything,” Loki interjects softly. “He knows that I befriended you while I was on Midgard and that I have a fondness for you. I had to tell him, as I was otherwise ordered in no uncertain terms to not to return here without express permission and a very good reason.” 

Tony nods for a few seconds before he clears his throat, ignoring that maybe he's the good reason. “Yeah. So, what happened after the whole stealing the throne thing?”

Loki smirks. “Odin resumed his rule once he was well, and Thor managed to convince him that I not only did what I did under Thor’s orders, but that I did well.”

“And did you?”

Loki raises a brow. “I like to think I have a flair for leading when my head is in the right place. I was responsible for the majority of the rebuilding effort that was necessary after the Dark Elves decimated the city, and I helped Thor solidify a few alliances that we had otherwise ruined.” 

“I didn’t see you at the Thanosmagedon.”

Loki looks taken aback for a moment before he regains his composure. “I helped from afar. My previous dalliance with the Titan left my mind weak to his particular brand of control. I feared he would be able to sway me again.”

Tony nods and feels sick and tries to change the subject as quickly as possible. “And what else have you been doing?”

“This and that. I am an aide to Thor and Asgard when he is in need of counsel that suits more my nature than his. Otherwise, I have taken time to travel.”

Loki’s voice is monotonous, like he’s told this story before, and Tony has to close his eyes to collect himself because he feels like he’s close to boiling over. They’re in the middle of small talk, and he hates small talk. He abhors small talk. He spent years drinking himself silly at galas and parties so he wouldn’t remember all of the small talk. There was enough of it earlier tonight, and he could stomach it with those people, his friends, but it doesn’t fit in with him and Loki. It feels wrong to him, makes him want to crawl out of his skin, and he finds himself wishing that Loki had just ambushed him at a cafe so they could catch up over coffee. Except they’re standing here instead, in a place that changed both of their lives, in a place that still makes Tony yearn for a time long past. 

If Tony hates anything more than small talk, it’s yearning, so he doesn’t try to mellow the bite to his words when he says, “Is this just a stop on your interstellar backpacking trip, then?” 

Loki has the decency to wince. “No, it is not, at least not in the way you are inferring.”

“What is this, then?” Tony demands, taking a step forward. “I’m too old for games, Loki. I don’t have the patience for this anymore. It was mysterious and dangerous once upon a time, but that time is long gone.” 

Loki opens his mouth but shuts it almost immediately, a somewhat pained expression on his face.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Tony sighs. “Thanks for the birthday wishes. It was really good to see you. Travel safe, Lokes.” 

Out of everything that could happen, Tony doesn’t expect to turn around and run headfirst into the god he was trying to escape. He should have realized it, though, because he can sense it now, the charged air tickling his skin. He felt similar energy markers over the years with all of the new magic uses rearing their heads, and maybe he’d be hard pressed to pinpoint someone else’s, but he’s pretty sure he could pick Loki’s out of a line up. 

Loki steadies him, fingers digging into his upper arms. His eyes seems brighter, and Tony isn’t sure if it’s the magic or something else entirely. 

“Don’t go,” he says quietly. “Please. Not yet.” 

Tony can’t make eye contact with the god, so he stares down at their shoes instead. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Don’t you?” 

“No, I don’t,” Tony snaps and shrugs away from Loki’s touch. It takes effort, but he’s finally able to look up. “Enough with the cryptic bullshit. Say what you came here to say.”

Loki stares at him, pulse point in his neck throbbing. He licks his lips and steadies himself with a breath before he says, “I could not forget you.”

Tony blinks. “What?”

Apparently that is not the answer Loki’s looking for because the air thickens again, making Tony’s skin tingle. 

“I am a god,” Loki hisses, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides. As he does, the current of magic surrounding them ebbs and flows. “I could kill you where you stand without more than a flick of my wrist, and yet I could not forget you. I have thought of you since our separation and no far-flung realm has been able to purge you from my mind.”

Tony thinks he’s supposed to feel something aside from anger. He doesn’t. “Are you shitting me? Is this a joke?”

Loki’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t answer. 

Tony throws his head back and laughs. “You’re something else, Loki.”

“Why is this funny to you?” Loki asks, and even though Tony can tell he’s trying to control it, there’s surprise there, like this isn’t what he was expecting.

Well, Tony loves to break apart expectations. 

“What’s eight years to you?” he demands, taking a step forward until he’s back in Loki’s personal space. He has to crane his neck back to maintain eye contact, but he doesn’t care, he glares at Loki with all he’s worth. “Fucking pocket change, right? Do you know what that is to me? A lot of fucking time. And I’ve spent it wanting you, pining like a goddamned teenager, but I never blamed you. I understood what it was between us, and I understood the limitations. Or I thought I understood them. Except now you’re telling me you’ve spent the better part of a decade trying to work me out of your system when you could have fucking come back here and put my out of my misery?” He laughs again and shakes his head. “Excuse me if I’m not super thrilled about your all-but-forced declaration.”

Tony wants Loki to keep being angry, wants to see the acidic green glow of his eyes, but instead he seems deflated as he brushes cold fingertips across Tony’s cheek. “Anthony.”

“I don’t want your pity,” Tony snaps and grabs Loki’s wrist to pull his hand away. 

“I do not pity you.”

“Then what is this?”

“Did you know there is a guardian of Asgard who watches over the Bifrost and controls when it opens?” Loki asks quietly. “It is a very prestigious position, one that he was deemed worthy to hold because of his particularly keen eyesight. Heimdall can see much of the nine realms from his perch, though unfortunately he and I have never seen eye to eye.” 

“Nice pun,” Tony deadpans.

The corner of Loki’s lips quirk, and he slides his hand from Tony’s loosened grip. “I asked him to find you, to tell me how you fared. You are not hard to find, apparently, with the way the element in your chest glows. He has kept me apprised over the years.”

“And what did he have to say?”

“That I was right when I said that you have a tendency for almost dying.”

Tony shrugs. “Comes with the job.”

“You said it yourself,” Loki continues, an edge to his voice that raises it a pitch. “Eight years is nothing to me even though it is everything to you. Do you understand what it would mean to live for centuries and only be able to have you for half of one if I was deemed lucky? If you did not get yourself killed before old age took you?”

The answer would be “no,” but Tony doesn’t think he’s capable of speech right now because no, he never thought of it.

“I am a selfish being. You know this. I do not hide it.” He leans forward, tilting at the waist until he can rest his cheek against Tony’s temple. When he exhales, his cool breath tickles Tony’s ear, sending a shiver through him. “But I have missed you. I have traveled the nine realms and I’ve yet to meet your equal.”

“Yeah, well, I am awesome.”

“You trusted me when I know no one else would have, not even my brother, estranged though we were.”

“I’m a sap,” Tony says with a half-assed shrug. 

“Perhaps,” Loki murmurs against his hair. 

“So what does this mean?” Tony asks, and he doesn’t stop Loki when his long fingers curl around Tony’s hips and tug him closer. Tony doesn’t fight it. He’s not sure how he isn’t vibrating with the sudden and horrible need to be touched. 

“I do not know.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “I’m not going to become immortal anytime soon. You didn’t see my cake, but there were a lot of candles on it. A lot.”

“I am aware,” Loki breathes out, dipping his head to nuzzle at the skin behind Tony’s ear 

Tony tilts his head to the side, allowing the taller man better access. “Okay, so what’s your game plan, pal?” 

“I do not have one.” 

Tony chuckles. “That sounds like something I would do.”

“What else would you do?”

“Probably take you back to my room.” 

Without preamble, Loki wraps his arms around Tony. Before he can complain about the tightness of Loki’s embrace, the air thickens dramatically. Tony’s hair stands straight up and the reactor hums audibly, making his chest feel like it’s vibrating from the inside. He tries to jerk away, but Loki just tightens his hold and whispers _trust me_ into Tony’s ear.

Then everything bleeds away. 

Sound, sensation, light, everything goes. Everything except Loki. Tony can feel the god’s fingers splayed across his back and spanning the width of his shoulder blades. He can feel Loki’s hair tickling his cheek, can feel his breath on Tony’s ear and the way his chest rises and falls against Tony’s. Tony holds on tight, gripping Loki’ jacket so hard he can feel his heartbeat throb in his knuckles.

When it all washes back into existence, Tony feels like he might actually vomit. The onslaught of sensation combined with the sudden lack of buzzing in his chest not only throws him off balance, but makes his head ache. 

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning against Loki. “Fuck.” 

“You will acclimate quickly,” Loki whispers, one hand trailing up until his cold palm cups Tony’s neck. 

Tony blinks a few times to try and clear the blurriness from his vision. “What was that?”

“Teleportation, of course,” Loki scoffs.

Tony hisses, “You’re a menace” and “you could have warmed me” and takes a step back to look around. His vision clears, and yeah, they’re definitely standing in the middle of Tony’s bedroom. He lets go of Loki’s jacket, fingers aching from the force of his grip, and runs a hand through his hair. “I have an elevator, you know.”

Loki shrugs. 

“Good point.” Tony takes another step back, forcing Loki’s hands to fall away from him. 

He uses the distance to study the god again, memorize the lines of his body and the curve of his cheekbones. Even dressed in such a plain, monochromatic suit with his hair pulled back, there’s something beautifully wild about him, and Tony longs to touch him. He wants to shove the jacket off of his shoulders and watch the buttons of his shirt fly here and there as he tears it open with purpose. He want to feel Loki’s cool, pale skin beneath his hands, wants to feel the god shiver beneath his ministrations. He wants, he wants, _he wants_ — 

—and the utter force of it sets off the alarms that have been silenced since Loki’s arrival. Neither of them speak, and Tony knows Loki is waiting on him, and god, but he wants to surge forward and take what Loki’s offering, take what he wants, but there’s something cementing him to the spot he’s occupying and not allowing him to leave it.

He really hates fifty. 

“Seriously, though,” he finally manages. “What’s the plan? Because I just… I can’t be… I just need to know.”

“What is it you need to know?” Loki asks.

“If you’re staying. Or if you’re going. Either is fine, but I need to know so I don’t spend the next eight years of my life waiting for you to show up.” It all comes out in a rush, words bleeding together, and Tony feels heat rise up his neck and settle in his cheeks. “Fifty isn’t that old, right, for your average human, but the thing is, I spent a little bit too long in the bottle and even longer with various kinds of metal in my chest that shouldn’t be there. I’m on a timer, even if I don't get myself killed early, and it’s shorter than any of us probably think. I don’t want to waste it.” 

He expects a lot of reactions from Loki, but the sadness that seems to wash over the god isn’t one of them. Tony’s heart thuds in his chest like a hammer. 

“Look, you know I want you,” he continues even though he knows he should _stop fucking blabbering_. “I’ve wanted you for— god, for years. You mesmerize me, and it’s hard for me to say that about anything. But you’re also probably right.”

“What am I right about?” Loki murmurs, the words gritty. 

“The whole aging thing. Why you didn’t come back for a while. Why you didn’t plan to come back, really. I mean, thinking about it longterm, maybe this would be a bad idea.” Tony swallows the lump in his throat so that it’s easier to force out the words. “For both of us. Apples and oranges, Loki. We’re apples and oranges.” 

Loki stares at him, his green eyes bright and glassy in the dim light of the bedroom. “Apples and oranges,” he repeats stonily.

“Yeah, you know. Old adage. It’s an Earth thing. Opposite of two peas in a pod.” 

“Apples,” Loki repeats again, and then he smiles, a slow curve of his lips that makes Tony’s whole body tense up. “Ah, yes. Apples, indeed.”

Tony blinks, thrown more off kilter by this one-eighty than by the teleportation. “What?”

“I believe you are right,” Loki replies as his eyes light up, flaring a neon green. “We are apples and oranges, aren’t we?”

 _This is what you just said you wanted_ , Tony tells himself even as the air ignites with Loki’s power again and churns against his skin. _This is what you wanted and what you just told him should happen_. Except his stomach is somewhere in the vicinity of his knees and and something in his chest is yawning, some wide chasm opening up, and Tony wishes more than anything that he could take it all back and be the selfish prick he normally is.

“Loki,” he croaks. 

“Thank you,” the god murmurs, and then he’s gone. 

Tony stands there for seconds, minutes, hours, he doesn’t know. He’s frozen, figuratively and literally, and the horrible weight in his chest feels insurmountable. When he finally manages to wrench himself away, he very nearly calls for his suit, desperate to break something apart, but there are guests in the tower.

“JARVIS,” he rasps instead. 

“Yes, sir,” the AI replies gently. 

“Get the workshop up and running.”

***

He doesn’t surface until late morning. A few of his friends still remain in residence, and he purposefully ignores them as he enters the common floor’s kitchen still in his slacks and button up from the night before, both singed and covered in grease. He’s also got a spectacular bruise forming on his cheek from where a flying scrap of metal hit him in the face, and he rubs at it subconsciously as he makes his way to the coffee pot. 

“What on Earth,” Pepper says as she sips her coffee. “You look like you just fought a war.”

“There’s a war on crime, Pep. They say so in Law & Order.” 

A chuckle resounds around the room, and Steve rolls his eyes, but everyone moves on. After all, none of them are strangers to Tony’s quirks and odd working hours since most of them have lived in the tower at one time or another. 

So, no one is the wiser. Except Bruce, who is staring at him with narrowed eyes, his tea cup raised halfway to his mouth but paused on it’s journey.

“Well,” Tony says as he snags a mug and pours himself coffee, “I’m gonna take this to go and shower. You all staying for lunch?”

The group offers different affirmatives, so Tony offers a wave and hurries back towards the elevators. 

“Hurry up, JARVIS,” he hisses, but he’s pretty sure JARVIS stalls the elevator on purpose because it hasn’t opened yet by the time Bruce has caught up to him.

“Tony,” he says as he hurries forward. “Wait a minute.” 

Tony turns around, forcing a smile. “Sleep well?”

“You obviously didn’t,” Bruce retorts, looking him up and down. “What happened?”

“I was tinkering with my new suit stabilizer and it exploded.”

“You know what I mean.” 

Tony closes his eyes, gripping the mug’s handle so hard he’s afraid its going to shatter. He almost hopes it does because then that means this conversation will be over. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Bruce.”

“You did see him, then.”

Over the years, only two people have become privy to his brief dalliance with Loki. He made the conscience decision to tell Pepper, and Bruce figured most of it out on his own in the weeks following the afternoon Loki and Thor went back to Asgard with the Tesseract.

“Yeah, I saw him, Bruce,” Tony says, voice gravelly. “He was here. We said hello, caught up, and he left. Anything else you need to know? Because I would really like a shower.” The elevator still hasn’t shown up, and Tony’s so full of pent up _something_ that he bangs a fist against the metal doors and snaps, “Anytime now, JARVIS.” 

The AI says nothing, and Tony thinks he might call for his suit after all. 

“What happened?” Bruce asks and settles a hand on his shoulder. “Tony, please—“

The doors open and Tony surges forward. “Nothing,” he says. “I’ll see you in a while for lunch.” 

Bruce stands there as the elevator doors close, lips and eyebrows turned down so that his entire face is frowning, but he doesn’t try to stop Tony. 

When Tony gets back to his rooms, he gulps down the coffee even though it sears his taste buds and steps into the shower. The hot water makes the bruise on his face throb and turns his skin an angry red, but he stays under the spray long enough that even his state-of-the-art water heater feels the strain and the water turns cold.

***

Even though Natasha wasn’t there for breakfast, she shows back up for lunch, and Tony feels the void in his chest shrink a bit. Aside from Thor, who had to return to Asgard the night before, the original crew is here... plus Bucky, who’s all but glued to Steve’s side these days, and Sam, who everyone seems to forget wasn’t there at the beginning. 

Instead of going fancy, Pepper’s ordered enough Chinese food to feed the city of New York— or a few super soldiers— and they all cram together in the living room instead of the kitchen, hips and thighs touching as they reach for containers of rice and noodles and pork-filled dumplings. 

“So, last summer I entered this contest,” Clint is saying, mouth half-full. “An archery contest.”

“Did they know who you were?” Bucky asks.

“Nah. I used a fake name and dressed weird.”

Natasha grins behind her plate, and Bruce levels Clint with a stare and asks “Why?” at the same time Tony asks, “Weirder than your sleeveless purple number you normally shoot in?” 

“I wanted to pull off some Robin Hood-like shit,” Clint says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, pretend I’m some loser, and then when the hotshot of the tournament thinks he’s won, I get a perfect score and throw my hood back and bam! It’s Hawkeye.”

Tony almost chokes on his lo-mein. “You’re kidding. Oh my god, this is great.” He swivels in his seat, knees bumping into Bruce’s. “Pepper, you thought I was awful, but Clint! Clint! He wins, I think.”

Pepper just shakes her head and tries to force away her smile. 

“That’s cheating, though,” Steve says with a frown, ignoring Tony. “You cheated.”

Clint squints at Steve. “The rules didn’t say I couldn’t enter it.”

“But you advertised yourself falsely, Clint.” 

“I played the system, man!” Clint crows. “You should have seen their faces. It was great.” 

“You’re awful,” Tony says. “I like it. Eat more pot stickers.”

“Okay.” Clint jabs a few with his fork and piles them onto his plate. 

“That would be like if Buck or I entered a hotdog eating contest with our appetites and metabolisms,” Steve continues. “It’s cheating!” 

Tony sputters and inhales a piece of noodle wrong. “You guys,” he wheezes as Bruce pats him on the back. “I can’t even. _Hotdog eating contest with Bucky_.” 

Bucky is grinning with his head bowed, but Steve blinks. “What?” 

“Nothing, Steve,” Pepper sighs. “You’re just watching an immature idiot choke to death. Bruce, you shouldn’t even try to save him.”

Tony is still laughing and coughing when the air shifts. 

“Fuck me,” he manages, and everyone looks at him oddly before Loki materializes in the middle of the living room. 

A lot could have happened, and Tony’s actually impressed that everyone manages to stay in their seats and not draw weapons he’s sure are stored somewhere on their persons. He thinks the overall surprise has something to do with it because it’s the same reason why he's still glued to the cushion he occupies. Loki, for his part, appears with his hands held up in a gesture of non-violence, and he doesn’t make a move, just looks slowly around the room, trying to assess any threat. 

“I apologize,” he finally says, “for interrupting your meal, but I have urgent business with Stark.”

No one speaks. 

“May I borrow him?” Loki tries again. 

That snaps Tony out of it. He stands, setting his plate down on the coffee table with more force than is necessary, and growls, “First, you should be asking _me_ if I can be borrowed, and second, this couldn’t wait until I was _alone_?” 

“What is this, exactly?” Steve asks slowly, posture tense. Tony sees the way his fingers twitch, like he’s wishing he had his shield. 

Loki looks to the Captain. “A personal matter.” 

“You aren’t allowed here,” Clint snaps. “Here or anywhere in the general vicinity of— oh, I don’t know— the fucking Earth.”

“He obtained permission through Asgard and SHIELD for a personal errand, so he actually does,” Natasha says, but narrows her eyes. “Though I’m not sure what’s actually happening right this second.”

“What?” several of the others say, directing their attention towards Nat.

Loki looks almost relieved, for a moment, not to be the center of their attention. Tony would laugh if he wasn’t so fucking stressed out. And then Nat just makes it worse. 

“It’s a long story that Tony should probably tell,” she says with a shrug. 

“Just for the record,” Tony responds, “I don’t want any part of this.” 

“But he’s here to see you,” Pepper points out.

Tony turns towards her, and he hates the expression on her face. It’s the knowing, gentle look, the same one she gave him when she was making her fantastically heart-wrenching speech the night before. 

She smiles and nods at him, her voice quiet, as if they were speaking privately. “Take a few minutes, Tony. We’ll still be here.”

Loki doesn’t wait for Tony to consent. He just steps forward, grabs Tony’s hand, and then everything but the weight of Loki’s fingers laced through his falls away. 

They materialize in the rooftop bar, of all places. Loki doesn’t let go of his hand, but he doesn’t step forward to steady Tony, either, so Tony stands there, one hand in Loki’s and the other on his knee as he tries to regain his bearings. The Chinese food sloshes around in his stomach. 

Eventually, his body settles and when it does, the anger burns like a uncontrollable house fire. 

“You leave,” he finally hisses out as he stands up straight. “You leave like you did, like a fucking asshole, and then you pop in on my super rare friend time and teleport me away and what the fucking _fuck_ , Loki?”

“It couldn’t wait,” Loki replies, and his grip on Tony’s hand tightens. 

Tony all but snarls, “You have forever and a day at your disposal, but you couldn’t wait twenty-four hours?”

“You do not,” Loki snaps back, and there’s something wild in his eyes. “You do not have the time, as much as I wish it, but you could, and I could not linger here or wait any longer once I knew.” 

“What are you even talking about?” 

Loki lets go of Tony’s hand and holds his out, palm facing upwards. The air above it shimmers; then there’s a flash and a perfectly shaped golden apple sits in Loki’s hand. 

Tony stares at it, and he doesn’t know why, but fear and excitement curl through his chest at the same time. His heart picks up speed, knocking at the arc reactor. 

“The goddess Idunn tends a garden in Asgard,” Loki says, his fingers curling around the piece of fruit. “In this garden grows a tree, and that tree grows golden apples like the one you see here. A single bite may cure illness, but the entire fruit grants longevity of life and spectacularly good health. The Aesir eat them every century or so to maintain their immortality and vigor.” 

“What are you doing” Tony demands hoarsely. “What are you even asking me?”

“I told you where I have been,” Loki murmurs. “I have lived a long time, Anthony, and I have lived much of that time alone. I have met none who I would consider a partner until you, and if what stands in our way is your mortality, then I am willing to ask the goddess to bestow one of the apples to me, as I have, and offer it to you, as I am.” He laughs gently but it’s more of a choked sound. “I cannot believe I did not think of it until your horrific analogy about fruit, but I could not waste my time.” 

“I can’t believe you’re asking me this,” Tony states dumbly. 

“I have considered the other options,” Loki replies. “We take each other as we are now and I watch you decay before my very eyes, or I leave you and never see you again. What choices are those compared to this?” 

Tony thinks about Pepper and the new creases around her eyes, thinks about the rest of impossible people of his inner circle that are sitting around Chinese food cartons in his living room right now. He’d outlive all of them easily, even Steve, if he reached forward and took what Loki was offering. Tony’s made rash decisions before. He’s got several different kinds of metal in his chest to prove it along with a whole lot of scars, both mental and physical, but this…

“A big fucking choice, that’s what,” he says. “Nothing would change for you, but you’re asking me to put myself in your position with the other people I care about. I don’t know if I can make that decision, Loki. At least, not right now. Not without time to think, to decide if I even want this.”

Without preamble, the apple disappears in a flash of golden light, and Loki’s arm settles at his side. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes bore into Tony’s. “I understand, and I will grant it to you.” 

“Is this Jeopardy?” Tony asks. “Is there music to count me down?”

“I know what I want, Anthony,” Loki responds calmly. “In most circumstances, I merely take what I want, but I will not force this upon you. The apple will last roughly a full rotation of your Midgard around the sun before the magic begins to dwindle and fade. I will find you before then, and you will give me an answer.”

“So a month. I get a month to decide the rest of my potentially life.”

“A month,” Loki repeats. “If by then you do not have an answer, or you chose not to partake of the fruit, that will be the last of it. The goddess will not allow me another to waste.” 

Tony scrubs a hand over his face. He feels his age suddenly, tired and drawn out, and goddamnit, he really hates fifty. “This is ridiculous.” 

A sad smile tilts up the corner of Loki’s lips. “It seems to be a recurrence between you and I. Neither of us seems to be able to live life without a few exceptionally dramatic flourishes.” 

Tony thinks back, all the slivers of time they spent in each others company— Loki in his father’s study, in his bed, wrapped around him, shuttered behind glass, indented into this very floor— and it’s ridiculous, sure, but then he looks at them now, standing here on the precipice of an insurmountable choice.

“What am I to you, exactly?” Tony asks, pressing his fingertips against his eyes until fluorescent lights dot the blackness behind his lids. 

Loki is silent for a while, and Tony wonders if it was the wrong thing to ask, but then the god speaks.

“I was ready to destroy a planet. My anger ran so deeply that I was prepared for thousands upon thousands to die. I felt nothing but that rage, that pain, and then you were there in your ridiculous metal suit, a ghost of a young man who touched me deeply, and you were ready not only to save me from myself, but others, as well.” Loki takes a step forward, the first movement he’s made towards Tony since he let go of his hand. “And I allowed it. I do not think you realize how important it was that I conceded, and if that is not love, I know not what is.” 

Tony’s heart stutters. It’s all ridiculous, Tony thinks. So ridiculous, this declaration of love, and he thinks he feels the same, but he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Loki must sense it— of course he does— because he retreats. “I will find you.”

“Okay,” Tony says numbly. 

He thinks Loki’s going to magic himself away, but as the air turns viscus, the god changes his mind. He rushes forward, all long legs and long strides, and before Tony can really react, he curls both of his hands along the curve of Tony’s jaw and pulls him in. 

Loki’s lips feel and taste like Tony remembers them. He grabs at Loki’s jacket and pulls them flush together, and Loki sighs against his mouth and leans into Tony. 

And then Loki is gone, and Tony stands there, head tipped back and eyes closed, for a long while. 

***

“Tony?”

Tony doesn’t turn, just sits there, arms draped over his knees and hands clasped together. He’s still upstairs, sitting on one of the couches that faces a window so he can watch as dusk settles over the city and the lights flicker on like a sea of stars.

The cushion next to his dips. 

“Everyone’s gone home,” Pepper says. 

Tony grits his teeth. “Fuck. I’m sorry. What a shitty host.”

“They understand,” she soothes, resting her hand on his forearm and squeezing. “Steve and James will be back in New York next month for a Stark Industries Gala, anyway. We’ll work on getting everyone together then, or at least for Steve’s birthday in July.”

Tony nods. “Did you tell them?”

“Only vague details. They didn’t push.”

Tony sighs. "I’m never going to hear the end of this.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Tony means to say no, but instead, he blurts out, “If someone offered you immortality, would you take it?”

He can feel her stiffen next to him, hears the barely audible sharp intake of breath. She doesn’t say anything for at least a full minute, and Tony’s about ready to vibrate out of his own skin when she finally asks, “He offered to make you immortal?”

“For all intents and purposes, yeah,” Tony sighs. “I’m not really sure what to do, Pep. I’m usually so sure about everything, but this is too much.” 

Pepper leans against him and drops her head against his shoulder. “Do you want it?”

“I don’t know. On one hand, yes, who wouldn’t want to live forever? On the other hand, who would want to? It’s one thing for an Asgardian— their people are all on the same boat. I’d be leaving a lot behind, though.” 

“Such as?”

“You,” Tony says without hesitation. “You and Rhodey and all of the others. I never thought in a million years I’d have something like this, Pepper. A fucking family. Like, we celebrate Christmas and everything. If I go ahead with this, if I choose him, I’d be leaving you all behind—“

“Tony, that’s idiotic.” 

Tony stiffens. “It isn’t.”

“Yes,” she says, “it is. We won’t all just slip away tomorrow if you chose to take this, Tony.”

Tony feels a little bit sick. “You’re telling me to go for it.” 

Pepper’s hold on his arm tightens. She scoots closer, fits herself to him, and Tony feels weighted down to Earth for the first time in hours. “I’ve watched you try to kill yourself for years. You create wonderful things, and you’ve changed the world and saved it a few times, but I’ve always been prepared to lose you too soon, so if you think I would feel badly that you’d live longer, you’re fooling yourself.”

“Nice job making this about you,” he mutters.

She ignores him. “And if you’re happy,” she continues. “You should be happy, Tony, so he would do that for you...”

Tony turns his face into her hair. 

“What about Loki?” she asks gently. “What did he say to you?”

“He used the word,” Tony mutters. 

Tony can basically hear the eyebrow raise in her “oh, really.” 

“Yeah. And fuck, what do I do with that? This is like some interstellar Lifetime movie. He shows up after several years and throws this at me. How am I supposed to make this choice, Pep? We’ve both changed, and we’ll keep changing, right? And let’s be honest here. I’m fucking selfish. I don’t want this if there’s a chance I end up living forever alone.” 

“I doubt that would happen.” She pauses. “Plus, you’ve somehow managed to keep a relatively close group of friends despite your horrible disposition, so I’m sure if Loki feels so strongly for you now, you’re safe.” 

Tony looks down at her for the first time. “Mrs. Potts, that’s an awful thing to say.”

She tilts her head back to smile up at him, and Tony shifts so he can wrap an arm around her and tug her even closer. 

“Fifty is turning out to be quite the decade for you,” she comments. 

Tony shakes his head. “No shit.” 

***

Tony waits and works and busies himself, and it feels like years instead of a month. 

He expects a grand entrance when it’s finally time, maybe some midnight dalliance or an appearance at a gala, but Tony’s actually sitting on his balcony at six o’clock in the morning, mug of coffee in hand and a Starkpad on his lap, when Loki shimmers into being on the other side of the glass doors. Tony doesn’t startle, not visibly. His pulse picks up speed, though, and there’s maybe a slight shake to his hand as he raises his drink to his lips. Loki very gently slides open the balcony door and settles into the chair opposite Tony. He doesn’t look at Tony, just stares out over the rail at the waking city. 

Tony finishes his coffee and pretends to finish the article he’s reading in between glances at Loki, but he can hardly focus with the god so close. He finally gives up and sets them both aside, then turns fully towards Loki.

Loki looks— well, guarded is a good way to put it. He sits straight in the chair, hands clasped in his lap, and he watches Tony wearily, almost like he’s prepared to get rejected. It gives Tony a sense of control that he didn’t know he needed. 

“Well, this is going well,” he remarks.

Loki narrows his eyes. “I do believe you are the one who owes me an answer, so I don’t know why I would be obligated to speak first.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “About that. I’ve been thinking—”

Loki’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t speak. 

“—and I have a few questions.” 

“You may ask them, then.” 

“First,” Tony says. “Does this mean I get to visit Asgard? I’ve never been to space, except for my little portal nuke incident, and that was shit. I’m assuming the rest of space is way more awesome. Second, do you have your little ban lifted on Earth, because I’m pretty sure having to schedule conjugal visits is going to be a pain in the ass. Three, what does it taste like, because I’m not overly fond of apples, but I’ll manage if I have to. Four, does Thor even know—“

“You dare mock me?” Loki whispers, bowing his head. His hair is loose today, and it drapes over his shoulders in black waves. At some point during Tony’s rant, he grabbed the arms of the chair, and his white-knuckled hands are shaking as he grips them. 

Tony stands and approaches slowly. Loki doesn’t react, just remains hunched over, so Tony reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “No. I’m not. That doesn’t mean that I won't in the future, but I’m not at the moment.”

Loki looks up at him, expression raw. “Then you accept my proposition?” 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Is this a business deal to you? Because I didn’t think that’s what I was accepting—” 

Tony stumbles backwards when Loki stands without warning. Before he can gracefully trip over himself, Loki’s hands are on his waist, pulling him in. 

“Say it,” Loki rasps. “Please.”

Tony looks up at him. He’s reminded of the night his father died, the night they all but tumbled into each other’s arms after Loki appeared looking nearly as lost and lonely as Tony felt-- Loki’s wearing the same expression now, and it’s the same one Tony’s seen on his face every single time since, and fuck, Tony hates it.

He reaches up and combs the rest of Loki’s hair out of his face, lets his hand linger on the god’s cheek. 

“I don’t think you realize how annoying I actually am,” he says seriously, “and you’re probably going to regret this before the first decade is up, but I’m in.”

Loki closes his eyes and exhales, all of the tension melting away, and then he bows his head and rests his forehead against Tony’s. 

“All of those questions, though, they were real questions,” Tony continues, lips curling up. 

“Perhaps this is a mistake,” Loki murmurs and nudges Tony’s nose with his own until the shorter man tilts his head back, Loki’s hair tickling his collarbone. “I forgot how much you talk.”

“Well, no take-backs,” Tony warns against Loki’s mouth. 

Loki scoffs before he finally kisses him. 

It’s nothing like the rushed kiss from a month ago. Loki sucks Tony’s lower lip between his teeth and Tony wraps his fists in Loki’s hair, and before long Tony manages to drag the balcony door open so they can stumble towards the bed. They undress each other slowly, and then Loki sets about mapping Tony’s scars, especially the news ones, with his mouth. 

Tony sucks bruises into Loki’s neck as he works him open. He’s had a grand total of three partners in the last eight years, and by the way Loki is gasping and writhing beneath him, he’s assuming the god’s sexual dalliances have been either non-existent or equally as boring as Tony’s. The thought makes Tony’s fingers rougher, makes him add teeth, and Loki responds in kind, his nails dragging down skin and no doubt leaving trail of red. 

Tony covers the god’s lips with his own when he enters him in one quick thrust, and Loki arches up and meets him, and _god_. 

Loki comes without even being touched, and Tony… well, he thinks he does pretty fucking well for fifty. 

***

The golden apple tastes like an apple on crack. It’s insanely sweet and tart at the same time, and the juice dribbles down Tony’s chin. He wipes it with the back of his hand and grins at Loki, who just rolls his eyes. When he’s finished, he hands the core to Loki for disposal. It disappears, and Tony makes a mental note to ask Loki what happens to the stuff he disappears. Pocket universe? Magical hat? Misdirection?

“Am I supposed to feel different?” Tony holds out his hands in front of him and turns them around. “I don’t feel different.” 

“You do to me,” Loki murmurs, stepping closer. He reaches out and places a palm on Tony’s chest. “I can sense a change. The energies mingles.”

Tony raises a brow. “I don’t know what that means.” 

Loki smirks and slides his hand down Tony’s abdomen. Tony hisses in a breath and arches into the touch, and Loki grabs them hem of his shirt and lifts it up. 

“Is this the time,” Tony groans. 

Loki touches the arc reactor with his free hand instead of where Tony thinks he’s going. 

Tony follows his gaze and looks down. His eyes widen. The red, mottled scar tissue around the arc reactor is healthy— hell, all of the scars along Tony’s abdomen and chest are gone— and the light emitting from the reactor itself is no longer blue, but a pure white. 

“Well, that’s different,” Tony states, and his voice doesn’t shake. It doesn’t. “Does that mean— can I remove it? The reactor?”

Loki frowns, the circular motion of his fingers around the reactor’s cage stilling. “No, I don’t think so.”

Tony huffs out a breath and shrugs. “I should be more disappointed about that, shouldn’t I? I don’t think I am, though.” He rests his hand over Loki’s. “Hear that, old friend? You’re stuck there.”

Loki smirks. “I pity it, being stuck with you for so long.”

“You’re next in line.” 

Loki heaves a dramatic sigh. “I will have to survive it. Somehow.”

Tony grins.


End file.
